Blaire's World: Volume One

by Box Set

  As much as it sours my stomach, it’s better for her to have it. She should hold on to it, cradle it, because the fear will keep her obedient, and it will keep her safe.

  From men like me.

  No. From men worse than me.

  “Stand up,” I order and remove her empty plate from in front of her. Her hair is messy from sleep; she tossed and turned most of the night until I finally scooted over to her and wrapped my arm around her middle. Hugging her tightly to my body, she finally settled into a deep sleep and melted into me. Though I’m sure she doesn’t recall any of this.

  I shove the table to the wall and pull away her chair once she’s on her feet.

  “Move down to your knees, place your hands on your thighs palms down,” I instruct her and wait for the resistance.

  With as much grace as any woman I’ve trained before, she moves down to her knees, parts them and palms her thighs. She’s not new to this.

  “How long have you been submissive?” I ask, catching us both off guard. I’m curious, but it really has no bearing on what I planned for the day.

  She glances up at me through her lashes and a soft pink hue tints her cheeks.

  “Since my first boyfriend, I was seventeen.” I’m more surprised by her answer than by my asking the question.

  “A seventeen-year-old was a dominant?” I know it’s possible. I trained my first slave for my father at eighteen, but I need to know more about her. She gives more freely when trying to contradict me.

  “He wasn’t seventeen.” She looks back at her lap like she doesn’t want to tell me the rest of it. Which means I need to know.

  “How old was he?” I ask with a sigh. I really don’t like dragging answers from people.

  “Twenty-two.” The blush on her cheeks deepen, and her fingers are digging into her thighs.

  I reach down to cup her chin and pull her gaze back to me. Hiding doesn’t work for me, and she really should know that by now.

  “Is he the man who took your virginity?” My question has nothing to do with the training we’re going to begin, but I want to know. I feel a burning need to know as much about Magdalena as I can.

  “No, well - we didn’t have sex, just - well, other things.” Talking about this is making her blush. She has a modest tinge to her soul. I like it.

  “How did you date a man five years older than you and come away still a virgin?” It seems unlikely. If she was half as fuckable at seventeen as she is now, the man must have been cockless.

  “Unlike you - he respected women. He didn’t go further than I wanted him to.” She spits the answer at me with a venom in her tone that scalds me. This girl knows exactly which buttons to press.

  “A twenty-two-year-old trying to get into the pants of a seventeen-year-old isn’t a man who respects women. He’s a man chasing tail and saying whatever he needs to get it. I bet you dated for two months, maybe three. He wouldn’t wait longer than that. He spanked you a little, maybe did some bedroom bondage with his ties? Then he realized the gates were sealed shut on that pretty pussy of yours, and he hightailed it out.” Her eyes widen more with every word I say, and I want to find this asshole and put my fist through his face.

  “It- it wasn’t like that. He took a new job and needed to relocate.” She says it like she’s convincing herself I’m wrong. Except I’m never wrong. Not when it comes to men’s intentions.

  “Hmmm.” I release her chin, noting my finger marks linger on her creamy skin before slowly fading away.

  “It wasn’t,” she whispers to her lap.

  “You’ve played then, with other men?” I go back to the insane line of questioning I began. It really doesn’t matter how much experience she’s had with impact play, or blood play, or anything else. Whatever her owner wants to do to her she’ll endure - because she won’t have a choice. There won’t be a safeword for her to cry out when it’s too much. And it will be too much.

  I unclench my fists and take a step away from her. I need space, I need to remember that she’s not mine to protect. She can’t be. She’s mine to train, that’s it.

  “Yes, mostly casual. Nothing serious.” She flicks her hair back over her shoulder.

  “No more boyfriends?”

  She shakes her head. “None that were serious.”

  “Sexual experience? Other than actual sex. Have you sucked a cock before?” Just the idea of her sweet lips wrapped around my cock has it standing at attention. “I know you’ve had your pussy eaten - at least once.” I grin, remembering how easily she melted into my hands when I took her clit in my mouth. Fuck she tasted good. I won’t wait too much longer before having another serving.

  “Yes. I’ve done that. I just told you I did other things,” she answers with her teeth gritted. I wonder if I touch her will her pussy be wet for me. Her pupils are already dilated, and her breathing is a bit shallower.

  I clear my throat. “Good.”

  “I don’t want this. You understand that, right? It’s wrong, what you’re doing. What your father does. It’s wrong.” Her voice is firm but low. If she’s trying to tap into my conscience, she’s wasting her time.

  “So is child labor, forced work camps, poor health care, homelessness, child abuse, the list goes on.” I fist her hair and pull her head back, mostly because I like to see her in that position, on her knees, looking up at me with her neck elongated and waiting for me to lick it. Or better yet, bite it.

  “That’s not—”

  “There will always be bad things, bad people in the world, Magdalena. You will not change this.”

  Her jaw clenches. “Maybe not, but Danuta can.” The conviction in her words almost has me convinced. Almost.

  I force a laugh. “I don’t think you know your sister as well as you think you do.”

  “She’s my sister. Of course, I do,” she protests, and I tighten my hold on her hair, enjoying the wince of pain cross her face.

  “No. Magdalena. My innocent girl, you know very little about so many things.” I pat her cheek and release her. “Now, press your cheek to the floor and wait for me to step up to you. When I do, kiss my boot gently with your lips and wait for me to release you. This is how you’ll greet your new owner after the sale is finished.”

  “I can’t.” She shakes her head.

  “There is no room for ego when you become a slave to these men. They will not hesitate to hurt you.”

  Her dark eyes meet mine. Resistance lingers there.

  “Magdalena, I’m trying to make this easier on you. If you know what to do, what to expect, things will go better.” I almost laugh at my words. I know what I’m doing, and what I’m forcing her into. She’s not the first slave to be trained in my apartment, but she’s the first that makes me question it. She’s not just another sale. She’s become something more. Something I don’t deserve.

  The nod is slow in coming, and when it does, she closes her eyes. Defeated again. My victories don’t taste as sweet with her. They are tainted sour by the pain she tries to mask from me - unsuccessfully.

  She shifts her hands to the floor, sliding them out in front of her and presses her right cheek to the rug.

  “Danuta will come,” she whispers to herself. No one’s coming for her, but I won’t break her thin veil of hope.

  I step around her, looking at the bruises on her back and what I can see of her ass. Needing a better look, I hook my boot under her pussy and push her ass up in the air. She grumbles but doesn’t try to stop me. When I remove my boot, I see her juices have coated the tip.

  The bruises are fine. Ugly and dark in a few spots, but they’ll fade enough for the auction in a few days. Stepping back around, I place my boot in front of her.

  “After you’ve greeted me, lick off the mess your pussy made,” I instruct, folding my hands in front of me. I’m aware her body is reacting to the situation on autopilot and her mind hasn’t caught up to it, but the motions will eventually get her there.

  She lifts and turns her head, leaning forwar
d with her lips puckered already. Softly she presses her lips to the worn black leather of my boot.

  “Clean it, Magdalena. That pretty pussy of yours is soaked with desire.”

  Her little pink tongue slips out from between her plump lips and laps up the bit of juice not already dried. She takes long licks and leans farther into my boot, rising her ass farther in the air.

  She’s not hating this.

  “That’s a good girl,” I praise her when she moves back into position, her cheek once again pressed to the floor.

  Squatting down, I brush her hair from her face, so I can see her more clearly. Her cheeks are flushed again. No, she didn’t hate it.

  “You’ve been very good this morning, my girl.” I switch to my own language, knowing she understands me. There’s a smile tugging at her lips, but she fights against it. Running the back of my hand along her jawline, I watch her internal struggle in silence. “I’m going to reward you.”

  Her legs, which were still parted, snap together and I laugh. “None of that now. If I want to touch you there, you know I will.”

  Tension seizes her body. She’s afraid I’ll force her again. I may have eased some of the terror from her with caring for her yesterday afternoon, but I haven’t erased the act. Nothing I do will ever remove it from her memory. It will haunt her nightmares forever if she lets it. And it’s my fault - I put the horror there.

  “I have a treat for you.” I leave her where she is and go to my closet. When I return, her eyes are closed, and her eyelashes are wet. She’s trying her best not to cry but failing.

  “Kneel up.” I don’t comment on the tears. Those are hers to keep. “A vibrator,” I announce sounding stupidly like some kid at show and tell. Clearing my throat, I hold it out for her.

  She takes the U-shaped toy from me and looks it over. It’s shaped perfectly to fit around her body, to stimulate her clit all the way to her asshole.

  I squat down and pluck it from her, showing her how it works. “It cups your body,” I say and point out the switch. “There’s where it gets turned on.”

  When she remains silent, I reach down between her legs and get the toy situated for her. She jerks when the thin elongated edge snuggles between her ass cheeks, but she doesn’t try to move out of my reach. I know she’s still sore there, but I also know a little bite of pain will help her.

  Once it’s in place, I run my hand up her body, over her taut stomach, and over her breasts. Her nipples harden beneath my touch, and I take my time rolling them between my fingers and massaging her tits. Her body responds to my touch like it understands she owns nothing at the moment, but it’s her mind I want. I want her full submission.

  She’s watching my face as I fondle her, like she’s trying to figure me out. Good luck.

  “You’re going to ride my boot with the vibrator on. It will help give more friction, you’ll see - and you’ll like it.”

  She huffs. “I won’t like anything you do to me.”

  I let my lips curl in a slow smile. “Little liar. You’re also going to wrap these pretty lips.” I pause to run my thumb over her bottom lip. “Around my cock until I come down your throat.”

  Again, she freezes. “And if I don’t want to - you’ll force me.” Those damn tears. They seem to irritate her as much as me though, and she swipes them away with the back of her hand.

  “No.” I wipe away a missed tear running down her cheek. “No more forcing.” It’s a promise I’ve never made before, but I’ll keep it. I won’t force her. There are other ways to gain her cooperation, other methods that bring pleasure to us both.

  “But defiance will be punished, Magdalena.” Another promise, not any less true than the first.

  She blinks, and her throat works as she swallows. A snarky response is rolling around that pretty head of hers, but she’s learned enough to keep it from rolling off her tongue.

  I slide my foot closer to her and grab her hair, yanking her forward until she positions herself on me. Lifting my toes up, I reach down and flick the switch on the vibrator.

  Her moan is almost instant.

  10

  I have to stop reacting to him. But the vibrations run over my clit at the perfect speed and when he lifts his foot again, it presses down hard. The friction - oh fuck the friction. And the vibrations are moving through the whole device, over my entrance, and over my ass.

  “There - see, good girl.” He’s speaking in Russian. With his free hand, he unbuckles his belt and pulls his zipper down. His cock bobs, smacking me in the mouth. He groans, like the sight of it turns him on.

  I won’t blame him for it, this time.

  He said he wouldn’t force me. I look at his thick cock in front of me and play with the idea of denying him. Testing his word. Except he wiggles his foot and another round of intense sensations rock my body.

  “Open that pretty mouth of yours,” he says in his hard voice. The authority is there, underlining his demand and I obey. Like the good girl he calls me, I part my lips wide and stick out my tongue. “So good.” He growls and fists the base of his cock, aiming it at my mouth.

  It’s big and I have to readjust my lips to accommodate him as he edges his way in my mouth. When the head of his cock touches my throat, I swallow, working hard to keep from gagging, but he pushes too hard too fast and I start to sputter. He pulls back, not enough to leave me, but enough for me to get much-needed air.

  “Again,” he says and yanks me by my hair down his shaft. Again, I swallow and manage better this time. I run my tongue over his hard length, tasting him and wanting more of it. I go farther down, taking him until his dark curls at the base tickle my nose. It takes concentration to do this and I’ve almost forgotten the vibrator on my sex.

  But he won’t let me forget, and he wiggles his damn foot again. I lose my composure and moan at the pleasure working its way over my pussy, making me even wetter. His boot will be covered again by the time we’re finished. Having moved my focus, I have to pull back on his cock, but he won’t let me and shoves himself down my throat.

  I cough and gag, but he won’t let me up.

  “Take it like a good girl, Magdalena. Swallow my cock,” he orders, but it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth. Is he on the edge, too?

  Spit pools at the corners of my mouth. When he finally pulls back, I gasp for much-needed air and the saliva pours out of my mouth, down my chin, over my chest. Before I fully recover, he yanks my head back again and thrusts into my mouth. I’m ready this time and swallow immediately.

  “Open wide,” he says and moves his hand from my hair to hook his thumbs inside my mouth. I open as big as I can. The force of his cock fucking my mouth unsteadies me and I balance myself with my hands pressing against his thighs. Such fucking masculine thighs.

  I inhale through my nose, taking in his scent, basking in the muskiness of it.

  He readjusts his stance and his foot grinds into my clit. I moan, rolling my eyes. The vibrations are overtaking my senses. My stomach swirls with pressure. I’m going to explode.

  “Good girl, fuck yourself with my boot,” he says in English, his accent thick. My hips are moving, I’m fucking myself with his boot, I’m being a good little obedient slut for him. But I can’t care about it now.

  I’m hungry.

  I’m starved.

  For his cock.

  My release.

  My eyes snap open as the ripples of pleasure burst into an explosion that sucks the air from my lungs. I can’t help but scream and ride his boot harder, faster, chasing after every orgasmic flutter.

  Kristoff thrusts with more power into my throat and I give a muffled cry.

  “Fuck, baby, yes.” He grunts and yanks my face down his length. I sputter but manage to keep him snug as hot streams of his cum spurt down my throat. I swallow it as it comes, but my body is starting to soften, the high from my orgasm is crashing and I grip his thighs, trying to push him away.

  “All. Of. It.” He growls. I swallow, but there’s too much,
and he’s still moving inside my mouth. When he’s done, when he’s caught his breath, he releases my lips and I pull back. His seed is running down my chin, and I wipe it away.

  “I said all of it, Magdalena,” he reminds me between his quick breaths and bends over and grabs my hand, forcing it to my mouth.

  My lips burn from his treatment, and I can barely catch air for myself, but he’s not letting go. When has he ever not gotten his way in this room?

  I stare at the string of cum smudged over the back of my hand and begin to lick it clean.

  “So much better today,” he praises me after dropping my hand and pets my head.

  “Asshole,” I mutter and start to get to my feet after removing the vibrator.

  “I didn’t say to stand. You remain on your knees until you’re given permission to use your feet. And you’d better practice on muttering more quietly. If your owner hears you insult him, he’ll be quick to punish.”

  I get back down and glare up at him. “And you? Will you punish me?” A part of me wishes he would. I deserve it for enjoying what he just fucking did. I shouldn’t have gotten any satisfaction from sucking his cock, and I sure as fuck shouldn’t have wiggled around on his boot like his personal whore and came so damn hard. No. I deserve a solid whipping. Maybe it would knock the sense back into my head.

  “Always.” He nods and begins to lace the leather of his belt back through the buckle. “But in this case, it’s true. I am an asshole. The other men - they are worse but don’t admit it. I’m fully aware of what and who I am.” A hint of sadness, dark resolve, taints his powerful voice. “But if you say it again, I will make you scream for mercy from the number of orgasms I will give you.”

  I clamp my mouth closed. I’ve had orgasms forced on me before. Date a sadist, and it’s one of the things you’ll get. Not my favorite afternoon activity. And I doubt Kristoff will stop after an easy number like three.

  “You may get up and wash up. I have meetings this afternoon, but Stephania will be up in a bit with lunch, and to work on your hair.” His belt is buckled, and he yanks up his zipper. The sound draws my attention, but I realize quickly I’m staring at his groin.